


This, Too, Is a Gift

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: The Losers (Comic)
Genre: Canon - Comics, Canon Character of Color, Character of Color, Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Female Character of Color, Het, Injury, Kinks, Missing Scene, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, Rare Pairing, body alteration/injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2010-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fahd tastes like sweat and blood and the grit of the desert sands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This, Too, Is a Gift

**Author's Note:**

> The comics are _amazing_ and inspired me to write this scene. While I guess you could visualize Zoe Saldana as Aisha, Aisha's characterization in this fic is pulled solely from the comics. With that said, this fic contains major spoilers through Issue #15 of the comics.

Fahd — handsome, resilient, strong — is ruined. Aisha feels it in the press of his swollen, broken lips, in the way his crooked, bent fingers skip across her skin. Her heart beats for him, swells, bursts, and she pushes him into the wall, running her fingers down the twisted planes of his flesh.

She brushes her lips over his swollen eye, traces the valley of his cheek where there should be an arch, and kisses the flat, broken steps of his nose. When she reaches his mouth, Fahd makes a soft sound, a sound of desire and things that were, perhaps a hope of things that will be.

This small wish, Aisha can grant.

She dips her tongue into the gaps in his teeth, licks the dried blood caked in the crevices until she feels the glide of his tongue meeting hers. Even his tongue is partially destroyed, chunks missing from the side where he must have bitten while the guards tortured him.

Aisha licks the blood from Fahd's mouth and imagines it is the blood of the guards, running as thick and free as the oil that crosses through the Karakum Desert. The thought does not quell the rage in her heart, but the sound of the bullets tearing apart their bodies satisfies the heat that sears in her veins. Somewhat. If only time had permitted the use of her blade so she could have carved Fahd's name into each of their chests and made them beg like she made the warden beg. Aisha's blood surges with the memories.

"Aisha," Fahd whispers, and touches the bare skin of her waist, slow and reverent as if she is a dream. He should know — remember — that she is not so frail. Then his mangled mouth speaks the language of their people, the Arabic rolling like a perfect song off his tongue. "I knew you would return to me."

Aisha presses closer, her tongue curling to answer in turn. "Death to them all," she promises, clutching the tattered rags of his shirt and peeling them off of his skin, "for what they have done to you."

Fahd's face twists into the ghost of a smile. His eyes shine as bright as the fire of the explosion, and Aisha kisses him again, yearning for that heat as she finds each bump and cut and wounded piece of flesh with the tips of her fingers. She undresses him slowly, with lips and tongue and the bare scrape of her teeth, until no part of his body is bereft of her touch.

There is no part of Fahd that the infidels left unmarked, no part of him untouched and whole, yet he is still perfect, still strong, still hers.

He tastes like sweat and blood and the grit of the desert sands. He whispers her name as if it is holy, and when he is overcome by his pleasure, Aisha digs her nails into the scarred and deeply-carved ruts of his hips. She pierces his flesh so he will always remember: so long as he never breaks, she will find him and cut a swath through their enemies more righteous than the God she cannot make herself believe in.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic also contains canonical references to torture.


End file.
